


Helter Skelter: Love Me Do

by Charlatron



Series: The Smutty Adventures of Olivia Trevelyan [3]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Confident Cullen Rutherford, Cullen Rutherford Smut, Cullenlingus (Dragon Age), Dom Cullen Rutherford, F/M, Inquisitor & Dorian Pavus Friendship, Light Bondage, Multiple Sex Positions, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Porn with Feelings, Shameless Smut, Teasing, Wedding Fluff, Wedding Night
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-07
Updated: 2020-04-07
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:14:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23447605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Charlatron/pseuds/Charlatron
Summary: A proposal, a wedding and lots of smutty goodness.(It isn't absolutely necessary to have read part 1 of the series, but I'd love it if you did)
Relationships: Cullen Rutherford/Female Trevelyan, Female Inquisitor/Cullen Rutherford
Series: The Smutty Adventures of Olivia Trevelyan [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1621369
Comments: 10
Kudos: 40





	Helter Skelter: Love Me Do

**Author's Note:**

> Endless thanks to kittimau for being my first ever beta! Your help with the smut was invaluable and I wouldn't have been nearly satisfied enough to post this story without it.

She'd lain alone in her room for far longer than usual that morning, each agonisingly silent second that passed wreaking havoc on her usually well manicured fingernails. At first she'd thought he was just trying to be funny and would come charging back in with a big stupid grin on his face, but before she knew it almost an entire hour had passed with no sign of his return. And so, knowing it was time to give in and get up, she climbed out of bed and readied herself for the day.

She almost sprinted down the steps from her quarters to the great hall, intending to seek out her dear friend and confidant. She was more than grateful for his continued presence during this strange stage in hers and Cullen's relationship, almost constantly seeking his advice and reassurances that she wasn't _doing it wrong_.

“Dorian!” She quietly panicked, though relieved to have found him so quickly.

He merely sighed at the tone of her voice, drawling a bored “What's the matter?” as she approached.

“It's Cullen.” She whispered, pushing him into the nearest room and closing the door behind her. “I think he's going to break-up with me.”

He rolled his eyes and presented her with an affectionate smirk. “Tell me, sweet Olivia, what was it that brought you to this _highly_ improbable conclusion?”

She picked anxiously at her already abused fingernails as she tried to suppress the sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. “He hasn't asked me to marry him today...” For the past three months, since Corypheus's downfall, each day had begun with Cullen _popping the question_ \- except this morning he hadn't, and just what exactly was she supposed to make of that?

“But you would have said no.” Her friend sensibly reasoned. “You always say no.”

“Well, yes, but...”

“But what? You just wanted him to keep asking forever? A man can only hear _no_ so many times before he loses all hope of ever receiving a different answer.”

“Do you think he's given up?” She couldn't mask the look of worry on her usually inscrutable face. “What if he's finally realised he can do better?”

“Olivia.” He began, delicately if a little exasperated, placing both hands on her shoulders. “We both know that isn't true. I have never seen anyone so sickeningly in love as that man is with you.”

She breathed a reluctant sigh of relief at her best friends words, the tense knot between her brows unravelling ever so slightly.

“Besides,” He continued. “The day is still young, perhaps he just hasn't gotten around to it yet.”

Well, that much was true. Maybe he _was_ planning to ask her later.

She eventually bade Dorian farewell and continued about her day, anxiously waiting for Cullen to approach. But he never did. Even after retiring to their quarters, midnight came and went without those four little words making an appearance. It wasn't even as if they'd gone straight to sleep, the uncertainty of his continued affections spurring her into a frenzy of pleasure, hoping that if she could just make him come hard enough he'd finally ask the question she'd been longing to hear. But clearly she'd failed.

She turned on her side to face him, startling him back into consciousness as she began tracing idle patterns on his sweat slicked chest. “You didn't ask me today.” She whispered, a vacant look on her face as she focused on the feel of his course chest hair beneath her fingertips.

His panting breaths abruptly stopped for just a moment. “I wasn't sure if you'd notice.”

“Do you not want to marry me anymore?” Her voice was steady, despite her swirling anxiety.

“Don't be ridiculous, of course I do.” He wrapped an arm around her and pulled her tightly to him. “I just – I thought you might appreciate a break from turning me down.”

“And you from being turned down, no?”

He was quiet for a moment, and even though he'd literally just said he still wanted to marry her, she couldn't help but mentally brace herself for a fall.

“ _No_ isn't an easy response to hear as often as I do.” He eventually explained. “But fear not, I promise I'll ask you again tomorrow.”

She felt an intense twinge of pain in her once blackened heart at the morose tone of his voice, and before she could even make sense of her emotions she heard herself quietly respond “... don't.”

“Oh.” He breathed, and she could have sworn she felt his heart suddenly _thump_ beneath her palm. “Okay.”

“No, I mean... you don't need to.” She propped herself up on her elbow to look at him, her brain having finally caught up with her mouth. But the poor man was befuddled. “Cullen, I - when you didn't ask me today, I felt... lost. I don't know if we're _meant_ to be together, and it is my firm belief that those who do claim to know such things are nothing more than naïve fools, but... I can't imagine a future without you in it.”

He hesitated, anxiously awaiting the punch line he so clearly felt was approaching. “Did you bump your head just now?”

“Shut up.” She sniggered, prodding him in the ribs. “I'm trying to tell you that, rather suddenly, I find the prospect of marrying you not quite so foolish.”

He chuckled for a moment, until he began to realise that she wasn't actually poking fun at him. “If this is some kind of cruel practical joke, it's in really poor taste.”

“It isn't a joke.” She swallowed nervously at the suddenly hopeful look on his face. “What do you say, Rutherford - you still feel like marrying me?”

His beautiful amber eyes narrowed on her as the scarred side of his lip quirked upwards in one of his signature smirks, that she suspected would forever possess the power to set her knickers ablaze. “Ask me properly.”

She forced herself to take a calming breath as opposed to speaking the instinctual retort on her lips. He'd been more patient with her than she'd had any right to expect. He deserved this much, at least. “Cullen Stanton -”

He winced at hearing his middle name. “Really?”

“Cullen _Stanton_ Rutherford.” She began again, re-positioning herself on her knees and trying her hardest to speak through the ridiculous smile on her face. “Please marry me?”

He rubbed his chin in contemplation, before casually responding with a “Nah.”

“Cullen!” She winced at the shrill sound of her own voice.

“Yeah, hurts doesn't it?” He teased, laughing even more when she stuck out her bottom lip before seizing her by the face and pulling her into a bruising kiss. “It's about damn time, Trevelyan.”

She snaked her arms around his neck and fused herself to him, whining in protest when he peeled away and slipped out of bed. “Where are you going?”

He didn't respond, rummaging through a draw of his belongings and eventually returning with the little velvet box he'd already presented to her countless times before. “Will you wear this now, then?”

She nodded enthusiastically, holding out her left hand for him to slip the ring on to her fourth finger.

“It was my mother’s.” He told her as she examined the simple, but perfect, silverite band on her finger.

She bit her lip, tearing her gaze from the ring to look into his eyes. “Do you think she would have approved?”

“Of her son marrying the Herald of Andraste and saviour of Thedas?” He teased. “No, she would have hated you.”

She made a exaggeratedly sad face, shoving him away as he attempted to move closer.

“I'm joking.” He laughed, until she relented and accepted his embrace. “She'd have loved you, because I do.”

“I wish I'd had the chance to meet her.” She lazily ran her fingers through his chest hair, lulling him into a false sense of calm. “So that I could have told her what a spectacular lover her son turned out to be.”

He let loose an unrestrained belly laugh. “You know, I almost believe you.”

“So...” She theatrically widened her eyes when the laughter eventually subsided. “We're betrothed.”

“That we are.” He agreed, almost reverently, pulling her closer to bury a kiss in her hair. “Just, please tell me you're not going to torture me with an extraordinarily long engagement?”

“How about the end of Firstfall?” She immediately suggested. “That way we could invite everyone to spend Satinalia with us here at Skyhold.”

“That's just four months away.” He worried. “Do you really think we could pull it off?”

“Cullen, darling, have you so easily forgotten the spendaholic party girl I used to be?” She smiled, patronisingly. “The only real question is, are you prepared to grant me complete control over this little shindig?”

He seemed tense all of a sudden. “Of course – I want it to be perfect for you...”

“But?”

He sighed. “Well, it's just that... I don't have a huge amount of coin.”

She pressed her fingers to his lips to silence him. ”Cullen, I have _so_ _much money_ , and besides it's tradition for the bride's father to pay – who just so happens to be loaded. Please, love, just let me take care of this.”

“I'm not sure how comfortable I am with that.”

“You bought us a home.” She passionately reasoned. “I haven't put a single copper towards that, yet.”

“You actually plan to live in that _shit heap_?” He asked, moodily quoting her first assessment of the previously rundown cottage he'd purchased and renovated for their retirement. “You wouldn't prefer one of the Trevelyan estates? Or to spend some of your _so much money_ on an arling of your own?”

“ _Cullen._ ” She whined. “Please don't punish me for being privileged. I may not have been imagining my wedding day since I was a child, but for the duration of our minutes-long engagement I have envisioned a very specific type of affair for us.”

He sighed, shaking his head in defeat. “Fine. Just, nothing too ostentatious. Alright?”

“I promise, it will be tasteful and you will love it.” She smiled triumphantly. “Now, I don't know about you but I've never had sex with a fiance before – well, not my _own_ fiance.” She added as a humorous afterthought.

He shook his head disapprovingly, folding his arms across his chest in a huff.

“Cullen Rutherford, if you don't fuck me this instant -”

He flipped her over before she managed to finish her threat, pressing her cheek to the pillow and pulling her arse in the air until her knees were able to support her weight. She felt his calloused palms sweeping the length of her spine before settling on her hips with a firm grip. She would be forever amazed at just how exciting sex with this man was. Boredom had always followed her like a shadow; a lover once experienced was quickly forgotten and never revisited. But with Cullen... she _always_ wanted more.

She would have thought that tying oneself to another so absolutely would spark panic and fear, but it was quite the opposite. She found herself craving his touch with an ever increasing voracity, if such a thing were even possible.

He pressed his thumbs into the dimples at the small of her back, holding her still as he slowly sheathed himself. She stretched her arms out in front of her like a cat, spine curving dramatically as she tilted her pelvis higher.

“You are _dripping_.” He breathed in awe, thrusting with just enough force that she could hear exactly how shamelessly wet she was.

He continued his slow pace for what felt like an eternity, their surroundings reduced to the wet sounds of their coupling and the rough drag of his palms on her hypersensitive skin. But she needed more. She pressed her hands to the mattress and pushed herself up, gaining enough purchase to increase the pace, the flesh of her arse slapping loudly against him.

He surged forwards, hands sweeping around her front to grasp her breasts as he nipped at her neck and shoulder, taking full control of the pace once again – though blessedly he didn't slow it down. He released his hold on one of her breasts to slip said hand between her thighs, but as he began to gently caress her clit she was struck with an intriguing idea.

“Cullen.” She half moaned as his fingers settled on just the right spot. “How do you feel about not having sex until after we're married?”

His movements abruptly halted, teeth nestled gently into the flesh of her upper back before he straightened up. His cock remained partially housed, but when she attempted to take more of him he held her firmly in place.

“I can't tell if you're joking.” He eventually spoke when she turned her head to peer at him over her shoulder.

She pulled herself off him and rolled onto her back, wrapping her legs around his hips to pull him on top of her. Confused as he was by her suggestion, he still managed to angle himself just right, burying himself deep as their chests pressed together so tightly it made her cleavage bulge.

“I know neither of us are virgins, but don't you think a little abstinence might make consummating our marriage that much more satisfying? I mean, can you even imagine the build up of unspent sexual energy? I bet you'd make me come in a heartbeat.”

He groaned, giving one wildly unrestrained thrust. “You're serious?”

“Only if you're okay with it.” She scraped her nails down his back as he ground himself against her, repetitively, _possessively_.

It turned out that talk of celibacy was actually potent fuel for rapid orgasms and, as Cullen reached his end and lost all ability to truly consider her proposal, he automatically agreed.

* * *

She'd had so much fun planning and arranging the big day with Dorian and Vivienne over the last few months, not to mention the insane _goodbye freedom_ party the pair had thrown for her just a few nights ago. She could hardly even believe she was getting married today. She’d half expected to have a meltdown at some point, but even now just minutes away from becoming a Mrs, the only thing she felt was eager. 

She looked at herself in the mirror, hair pinned up with just a few tendrils hanging loosely around her face and neck, make-up that enhanced the feline shape of her eyes and just a touch of rouge on her lips so she could plant them on her husband whenever the mood struck. _And the dress!_ It was a full length, off-white number, decorated with stitched lace and tiny diamonds; a deep v neck line showing a pleasing, though not overtly slutty, cleavage; long sleeves with a fitted bodice and loose flowing skirt. All topped off with a pair of delicate glass slippers - which cost almost as much as the lingerie she'd purchased for later that night.

“Cousin, are you ready -” Dorian burst through the door, falling abruptly silent when he caught sight of her. “Well, aren't you a vision.”

“Yeah?” Uncharacteristically self-conscious she turned her attention back to her hair, fussing with her curls without actually making any changes.

“Olivia, you are perfect.” Her man-of-honour appeared over her shoulder. “Cullen is going to lose his shit.”

“Is my father here, yet?”

“Right outside.” He confirmed. “I asked for a moment alone with you.”

“Why, is something wrong?” She worried, turning to face him. Oh, how ironic it would be if Cullen had been the one to flee the scene.

“Not a thing.” He assured her. “I just wanted to give you my wedding gift – though I'm afraid it's really only for you and not so much your intended.”

He reached for her hand and pressed a large pendant into her palm. It was a deep shade of purple, a colour she associated with her dear friend, set in silver filigree and attached to a long chain. "Dorian, it's beautiful."

“It's a sending crystal.” He further explained. "So that we might keep in touch.”

Her face fell. “You're definitely leaving then?” The thought of him being so far away, and in a land that didn't appreciate him, made her skin prickle with anxiety.

“It's your fault.” He lovingly scolded. “You've been far too good of an example for me not to at least _try_ to fix my homeland.”

She stood and drew him in to a rare hug - for probably only the fourth or fifth time since they'd identified each other as best friends. “Just promise me you wont get yourself assassinated. I'd rather avoid the chore of finding some way to bring you back just so I can kill you again.”

“I promise.” He softly chuckled. “Now. Are you ready to become Mrs Rutherford?”

She nodded, blowing out a long shaky breath. “Could you just give me two minutes alone?”

“I'll go take my place.” He smiled, kissing her on the cheek. “You take as long as you need.”

She turned back to her reflection in the vanity, and for just the briefest of moments saw her mother staring back at her. She couldn't help the whispered “I wish you were here” that passed her lips, reaching out to touch the mirror as though she really was sitting in front of her. She took a few deep breaths, until she was certain there were no tears in her eyes, then headed out to join her father. She believed it when he told her she looked just like her mother, kissing him on the cheek before taking his offered arm.

Upon entering the gardens they were greeted by the smell of crystal grace and the delicate plucking of a nearby harp. Although the air was seasonally cool, enough veilfire's had been lit to warm the area just enough to make it tolerable. She'd given strict instructions on how she wanted the place decorated, having worked tirelessly to create something visually stunning, but instead of appraising the end result all she wanted was to see _his_ face when he first saw her.

She took a few steps forwards, and then he turned.

The breath in her lungs froze, the intensity of his gaze felt almost physically. She'd never believed herself so worthy of love as she did in that very moment, with him looking at her like _that_. He placed a hand on his chest, over his heart, clearly struggling to keep his emotions in check.

_Don't you dare cry, Trevelyan. You will never hear the end of it._

She breathed steadily through her nose in time with her steps, each one bringing her closer to eternity with the man she loved. She'd never seen him look so happy and content as he did right then, bright amber eyes practically shining with adoration, and she couldn't think of a single other memory that came even close to this.

As she came to a halt beside him she'd planned to smile demurely, perhaps discreetly look him up and down, but he clearly had other ideas. He wrapped a hand around the back of her neck and pulled her towards him, stealing a passionate kiss that earned him a few wolf whistles. Only when Mother Giselle cleared her throat did he remember himself, releasing her and taking a sheepish step backwards.

They managed to make it through the vows without any tears, though it required a great deal of effort when his voice broke on _the rest of my days_. Everyone cheered when they finally kissed and he made a show of dipping her low. Romantic git.

After the ceremony, drinks were served as they separated to converse their way through the guests. She was pretending to be deep in conversation with Dorian when she acknowledged the slow approach of her commander. His eyes were fixed on the movement of her fingers as they absentmindedly traced the neck line of her dress, repeatedly passing over her collar bone.

He pressed a hand to the small of her back and leaned in close to whisper “Are you trying to turn me on or are you really just that oblivious?”

She had, of course, been trying. And if he continued looking at her that way for much longer, her plan would go to shit and she might just jump him right there.

“You said you were going to do that thing.” Dorian helpfully cut through the blazing sexual tension.

“Ah, yes, that thing.” She smirked. “Cullen, might I steal you away for just a moment? I'll be needing your help with this... thing.”

“Alright.” He answered slowly after a long pause, looking at both she and Dorian with an equal measure of suspicion.

She led her husband across the garden towards the great hall, with Dorian discreetly following behind. Her man-of-honour had dutifully agreed to bar the way so she and Cullen wouldn’t be interrupted by wandering guests.

“Are you really dragging me to bed right now?” Cullen chuckled as she pulled him deeper into the great hall.

“No.” Was the only response she gave as she led him to their actual destination.

He looked rather hilariously excited when she twirled him in front of her to back him towards the throne, and with a rough shove of his chest she bade him to “Sit.”

“Have I told you how much I love this dress?” He asked, gripping her hips and pulling her close to bury his face in her cleavage.

“You should see what I'm wearing underneath.” She dared, lifting one foot out of it's glass slipper and bringing it to rest on the arm of the chair beside him.

“Olivia!” He exclaimed, glancing around the cavernous hall in a mild panic.

“Don't worry.” She reassured him. “Dorian's on door duty.”

He relaxed slightly, raising a curious eyebrow as he began to slowly pull up her skirt. Bunching it up on the thigh of her bent knee, his eyes widened with delight when he saw she was bare beneath. “You naughty girl.”

“Hungry?” She purred.

He licked his lips, unable to take his eyes off the delightfully hairless space between her thighs. “I thought we were saving ourselves for tonight?”

“We are.” She sighed when he pressed his cheek to the inner thigh of her bent leg, his nose just shy of touching her as he loudly inhaled her scent. “But I thought a bit of edging might make tonight even more… _explosive_.”

“So you mean for me to spend the rest of the day in a permanent state of arousal, do you?” His breath ghosted over her lips, cooling the slick that was already pooling there.

“No.” She shuddered when he gave her a feather light kiss, his bottom lip applying just the tiniest bit of pressure to the hood of her clit. “I mean for us _both_ to spend the rest of the day in a permanent state of arousal.”

They both groaned when he ran his tongue along the length of her slit, he at the taste and she at the sensation. She slipped one hand into her dress to play with a nipple, staunchly resisting the urge to reach out and touch his perfect hair for fear of ruining it. He groaned again when he noticed the action, before sealing his mouth around her clit and giving it a hard _suck_.

“Tell me when you're close.” He commanded, immediately grabbing her bare arse to pull her more firmly onto his face.

She'd honestly forgotten the plan after just a few minutes of feeling the talented sweep of his tongue, but the little hitch in her exhale was clearly evidence enough that she was about to climax. He gave her one last drag of his tongue, lapping up her slick, then sat himself back with a smug grin on his face.

“I changed my mind.” She squirmed. “Let's fuck.”

He tutted. “Such little restraint, my wife.”

“Oh, come on.” She quickly straddled him, leaning close to brush her lips against his ear. “We can do it right here on the throne.”

He bit his lip, clearly struggling to resist but also apparently intent to do so. “Later, love.”

She grumbled in protest, but stepped off his lap regardless. He was right, after all. The anticipation would make their first _O's_ as newlyweds that much sweeter. “You should probably go wash me off your face.”

He snorted. “Meet you back out there?”

She gave him a quick peck on the lips, carefully so as not to transfer the slick from his face to hers, then slipped her foot back into her discarded shoe and headed back out to the reception.

The rest of the day seemed to pass in the blink of an eye. She'd made sure to speak to everyone in attendance for at least a few minutes, but didn't feel she'd spent nearly enough time with her husband. So, when the first wave of people began excusing themselves she feigned tiredness herself and suggested to him that they also retire for the evening.

She left him to say his final goodbyes and headed up to bed alone. She just needed a few minutes to slip out of her dress and into the lingerie she'd purchased for the occasion. It was an opaque flesh toned camisole with a tiny little pair of matching knickers, an intricately stitched black pattern _slightly_ concealing the key areas.

“What's that in your hand?” He asked, surprising her as he reached the top of the stairs.

She placed her hands on her hips, staring incredulously at him. “I'm standing here in ludicrously expensive lingerie, _through which you can see the colour of my nipples_ , and the first thing you notice is the blindfold in my hand?”

“And very nice nipples they are.” He replied without missing a beat. “I'm just...not sure how comfortable I am with being blindfolded.”

But that wasn't what she'd planned at all. She sauntered towards him and pressed the blindfold into his palm, turning herself away from him so that he could put it on for her.

“Oh.” He happily understood, affixing the blindfold to her eyes and gently tying it off at the back of her head.

She turned to face him, offering herself to him on a platter. “Do with me as you will, husband.”

She heard him chuckle before he took her hand and led her towards the bed, sitting her on the edge. “I think it's only fair we start with this.”

She squeezed her thighs together as she listened to the sounds of his undressing, impatiently drumming her fingers on her knee until she _finally_ felt the press of his cock to her lips. She obediently opened her mouth, sticking out her tongue to protect him from the scrape of her teeth as he slid himself to the back of her throat. He wove his fingers into her still pinned hair, slowly guiding her up and down the length of his cock as he gently fucked her face. She tried to keep it tidy, but his steadily increasing pace eventually made it impossible not to dribble.

Despite her expertly honed gag reflex, his cock bouncing off the back of her throat did make her gag a few times – and he liked it. So much so that it wasn't long before his movements became erratic and his breaths began to quicken - a clear indication he was close - before he abruptly pulled out with a pained growl. She moved her aching jaw from side to side, trying to loosen some of the tension, aware of nothing much beyond the fact that her chin and chest were covered in saliva.

“Are those restraints, I see?”

He'd finally clocked them then. “You know how impatient I get, love. I thought you might enjoy tying me up.”

“Move.” He commanded in a dangerously low tone. She immediately complied, scooting herself backwards until she reached the pillows.

She gasped when he yanked her wrists above her head, bound them together, then secured them to the bed frame. The bindings bit into her flesh as he gave them a rough tug, testing to see how well they might hold. Just enough pain to quicken her pulse with a flood of adrenaline, but not too much to be uncomfortable. She chased his lips when they briefly grazed hers, though she was rather rudely denied.

She felt the shift of his weight leave the bed as he slipped away. She was about to demand he do something when he finally pulled down her slip to expose her chest and she felt the broad stroke of his tongue on her breast. She sucked in a harsh breath when he blew over the wetness he'd left there, cooling her nipple into a hard peak before repeating the process on the other.

She felt the bed dip but couldn't tell exactly where he was or what he was planning. This level of submission was fairly new to her, but so far so good - he'd barely touched her and she was already breathing heavily. She felt his hand wipe away the wetness on her chin, followed immediately by the unmistakable repetitive sounds of him stroking himself.

She could finally picture him when she felt his legs on either side of her and some of his weight settle on her torso as he sat up straight. She let slip a little gasp of surprise when warm oil dripped down her chest and was smeared over each breast by large, calloused palms. She smirked when he pressed his cock to her chest, his hands cupping the sides of her breasts to push them tightly together.

“You are being very selfish with that thing.” She playfully scolded as he picked up a slow rhythm.

He huffed a deep chuckle, but didn't speak. His cock slid between her breasts, hard as stone against her smooth skin, brushing the hollow of her throat on each upward stroke. She couldn't help licking her lips as she panted, desperate to taste him again. The bed beneath them creaked as he rutted against her body, taking from her what he needed. Again, she heard the breathy sounds of his heightened arousal and, again, he moved away from her.

She had no idea where he was now, wasn't even sure if he was still on the bed. She startled when his large hand encircled her ankle, slightly less so when he pressed a kiss to the sole of her foot. His mouth worked slowly up her leg, from her foot to her ankle, ankle to calf, calf to knee. Trembling with anticipation, her breaths grew increasingly rapid with each press of his lips that landed closer to her core, but after what felt like at least an hour on one leg he switched to the other – once again starting from her foot.

When he eventually reached the top of her thigh, she felt his breath ghost over her still clothed mound. She was readying herself to aid him in pulling her knickers down her legs, but instead he bypassed that area completely and began to work his way higher.

“You are such a fucking tease.” She growled, her patience finally at an end.

She could practically hear the grin on his face as he moved over her body to whisper in her ear “If you don't like my teasing, then why are you moaning?”

Had she been moaning? Clearly his achingly slow exploration of her body had put her into some kind of trance for her not to have noticed. Any retort she had died on her tongue when he captured her lips in a bruising kiss. Instinctively she tried to run her fingers through his hair, but all she managed was a futile struggle against her restraints.

He chuckled again and moved away. She whimpered in frustration as she felt his weight disappear, but the sound was cut off when he abruptly flipped her onto her front. Thankfully the restraints were such that they moved with her, or else her shoulder might have popped out of it's socket again.

His removal of her underwear was swift, as was the press of his face between her cheeks. She struggled to find purchase, knees digging into the mattress to push herself more firmly against him as he lapped relentlessly at her arsehole until the sheets beneath her were soaked through. The sensory deprivation made it feel even more amazing than usual, especially combined with the scratch of his nails on her back. But she needed him lower.

He of course did the opposite, abandoning her arse to kiss his way up her spine. When he reached the top he sank his teeth into the crook of her neck. But it was the urgent intrusion of his cock in her thoroughly moistened cunt that made her scream.

He pressed his whole body against her, the roll of his hips cushioned by her fleshy arse - which also made it infuriatingly impossible for him to press too deep. When his breath on the back of her neck became heavy, he sat himself up, splaying his palms on her buttocks.

He exhaled a long, low moan, pushing into her slowly as he parted her cheeks. “You have no idea how good this looks.”

She whined in frustration, trying in vain to tilt her pelvis in an effort to take him deeper. “Cullen, do you want me to cry?” She desperately pleaded. “Because that's exactly what's going to happen if you keep torturing me like this!”

He immediately pulled out and flipped her back over, tugging off her blindfold to reveal the smug look on his face. He surged forwards to capture her lips, kissing her breathless before sliding back down her body to, hopefully, finally allow her to climax.

He was definitely done teasing. Lapping and sucking and _biting_ until she was a quaking mess of sweat and high pitched mewls. Four months she had gone without this. _Four fucking months!_ She knew her first orgasm as a married woman would be intense, but this was transcendental. She felt as though she were floating, looking down on herself as her husband devoured her flesh. The eruption of intense pleasure was felt over every inch of her body, right down to her bones.

And then he was kissing her again, the taste of herself still fresh on his lips as he reached up to release her wrists from the bed – though leaving them bound together. She looped her arms over his head, noticing for the first time the ache in her shoulders as she held him in a passionate kiss, biting down on his lip _hard_ as he sheathed himself once more.

“I know we're out of the way up here, but I'm fairly certain half of Skyhold heard you just then," he boasted.

All she could manage in response was a pathetic whimper, her throat was raw from the harsh sounds he'd drawn from her over the last – how long had it even been? A day? A week? She wasn't entirely sure she was even lucid as he rutted her into the pillows, taking most of his weight on one elbow while pulling her knee over his hip with his free hand.

“How are you still going?” she finally managed to speak, in complete awe of his stamina.

“I have no idea," he answered honestly, fingers digging painfully into her thigh when she clenched her pelvic muscles around him. “Do you think you have another one in you? I'd really like it if we finished together.”

“So long as you're prepared for me to pass out when it happens.” _Petite mort_ , the Orlesian's called it. And she was quite certain it would happen to her if she were to climax a second time – even if it's intensity was only a fraction of the first.

He laughed against the skin of her neck. “That sounds like a challenge, if I've ever heard one.”

She chuckled throatily. “Hardly a challenge for that phenomenal cock of yours.”

He growled as he nipped at the flesh of her shoulder. “Tell me more of my phenomenal cock.”

The perfectly controlled intensity of his thrusts desynchronised for just a moment as he spoke, but he quickly righted himself, eliciting a blissful sigh from his bride. She bit her lip seductively as he locked eyes with her, waiting for her to describe her appreciation of his cock in great detail.

“I have never seen anything more beautiful.” She tilted her pelvis to meet his next thrust, moaning excessively as she continued to praise it's magnificence. “It's taste is unrivalled, it's size astounding and the texture...” She made a show of licking her lips then hummed as though tasting something delicious. “My tongue has lovingly memorised every ridge and vein along that masterpiece.”

Sweat dripped down his arms as his disciplined movements quickened with her praise.

“Bards should compose sonnets about that pretty cock of yours; how maids weep to behold it's beauty and men fall on their swords in despair, knowing they could never live up to you.”

“Tell me it's the best you've had.” He groaned, the roll of his pelvis now almost devastating in its intensity.

“By a mile.” She breathlessly exclaimed, cheekily adding “And I've had a lot of cocks, so that really means something.”

He snapped his hips with such ferocity that something in her pelvis clicked in response. But if any damage had been done she was none the wiser, solely focused on the rough drag of his cock along her tender walls as she was.

“All tiny pricks for you to fit me as snugly as you do.” He punctuated his hypothesis with another harsh snap of his hips.

“Not entirely sure that's how it works.” She chuckled. “But I promise yours is definitely my favourite.”

In a flash he had them both upright in the middle of the bed, he on his knees and her with her legs around his waist. Her feet barely even touched the bed, his wondrous strength bearing her weight in its entirety as he furiously bounced her on his cock. Instead of a straight up and down, he moved her in slight circular motions, creating a delightful friction against her clit.

He didn't need to ask if she was close, so attuned to her body by now that just the rhythm of her breathing was enough to alert him. She'd never seen him so gloriously sweaty and short of breath, nor his strong arms quite so littered with bulging veins, as he worked them towards their shared peak.

She lost all sense save for touch when it inevitably hit, aware of nothing but the spread of warmth throughout her limbs and the seemingly endless pulse of his cock seated deep inside her. Her cunt spasmed with such zeal that the incredibly powerful man beneath her whimpered at the sensation.

The next thing she knew she was on her back – _petite mort, indeed_ – and Cullen was gently unbinding her wrists with a concerned look on his face.

“I did tell you I'd pass out.” Her voice startled him, but he didn't seem all that reassured by her having woken up.

“Why didn't you tell me they were too tight?” He asked, a bit angrier than she was prepared for.

She shuffled backwards to sit herself up and examined her wrists, immediately noticing the thick purple lines that now encircled them.

“I didn't think they were at the time.” She attempted to assuage him. “I was a little bit preoccupied, if you hadn't noticed.“

She slid behind his back and wrapped her arms around him when it seemed he was set to beat himself up for the rest of the night. She laid her cheek on his back and stroked his chest, allowing him a moment to see she was in no pain.

He eventually grasped one of her hands and brought her wrist to his lips, pressing feather-light kisses along the developing bruises. “I'm sorry.”

“Don't be.” She reprimanded. “That was some first-rate fucking, Rutherford.”

She felt as much as heard the deep chuckle in his chest. “Was it worth the fourth month hiatus?”

“I'll say.” She blew out a breath and threw herself backwards onto the pillows. “I can't believe how long you lasted – wait, is it light out!”

He laughed as he lay down beside her, one arm behind his head as he stared up at the ceiling.

She turned to face him, somehow certain that she would never tire of his presence. “I love you.” She didn't say it often enough, but to see that ridiculously happy smile more often she certainly intended to try.

He turned fully to face her, bright amber locked on to vivid green. It wasn't just the words that made her feel it, it was the way he looked at her – as though nothing else existed. But he of course said it anyway. “I love you, too.”

She snuggled against him as he cocooned her in his arms, gently stroking her hair and lulling her into a pleasant dream-filled sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> And thank you once again to the amazing @samusdraws for bringing Olivia to life. 
> 
> Petite mort = Little death


End file.
